


Anything Can Happen In The Desert

by PagebyPaige



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance
Genre: Danger Days Gerard, Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Multiple Gerards - Freeform, multiple eras, parade gerard, revenge Gerard - Freeform, semi-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 10:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13246212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PagebyPaige/pseuds/PagebyPaige
Summary: Party runs into two of his past selves, and once they put the guns away they all have a little talk.





	Anything Can Happen In The Desert

**Author's Note:**

  * For [killallofyourfriends](https://archiveofourown.org/users/killallofyourfriends/gifts).
  * Inspired by [In the Music of Time](https://archiveofourown.org/works/278023) by [greedy_dancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greedy_dancer/pseuds/greedy_dancer). 



> Inspired by both the fic mentioned above and an amazing drawing done by my friend Frankie [here](https://frnkfuckniero.tumblr.com/post/163150964753/ierospirit-im-not-gonna-ask-twice-who-the) (it's not his blog bc he remade but it's his art).

In the desert, anything can happen. Party wasn't a damn idiot, he knew that. But you also only ever believe anything to an extent. That’s why he didn't believe his eyes when he saw the version of himself - his true self - that he thought he'd left behind with a pistol drawn, pointed at him.

The day had been as normal as normal gets in the zones, him and Ghoul going out for food or some other excuse to get fresh air. Everyone was a little stir-crazy with the constant hurry up and wait in terms of the drac raids, but there wasn't much they could do. In a relatively safe area, Party and Ghoul had split for a little bit of headspace, but still in shouting distance.

That’s why Party thought he was hallucinating when he saw his true self, with shock white hair and wild eyes, pointing a pistol in his direction. As was his instinct, he drew his gun, too, and stared himself down. Before he could open his mouth and figure out what the hell was going on, white-hair turned and his eyes opened even wider. Party turned his head cautiously, expecting a surprise attack as soon as his gaze left the other man.

In the fashion of the day, there to his right was himself, again, but this time even younger. He looked dazed and terrified, likely intoxicated. Here he was, faced with all the truths he'd tried to run away from. Of course, grease-ball also had a gun cocked, pointed shakily at white-hair. Party needed to do something before someone else did.

In his most demanding, authoritative voice, he asked, “I won’t ask twice. Who the hell are you?”

“Who the hell are you?” Grease-ball slurred back. White-hair looked warily between the two of them.

“I know who you are, you little bitch,” White-hair sneered at grease-ball. “I thought I killed you, but I guess fucking not.” Grease-ball looked like he was close to pissing himself.

“Okay, I know who you both are, but you probably have no idea who the hell I am, is that correct?” Party asked, trying to regain control of the scenario. The others both nodded cautiously. “I’ll put this simple - I'm you.” He watched their bewildered expressions, having expected them.

“You, white-hair,” he said first, still not wanting to use that name. “This probably makes a little more sense to you, since you can very clearly see that grease-ball over there is you, yeah?” White-hair nodded tentatively.

“And you, grease-ball,” He turned, knowing this wouldn't be easy. “You're going to get really fucking drunk one day, and Fr- your best friend is gonna find you, passed out and half dead, and you're going to sober the fuck up and make something out of yourself. And then you're gonna have a really fucking great idea and you're gonna turn into that guy,” he said, pointing at white-hair. “And you're gonna tour for months on end because you're so fucking in love with what you're doing now that your sober, and you're gonna do fucking great.”

Grease-ball looked at white-hair inquisitively, almost asking for confirmation.

“He’s right,” white-hair said. “That’s what happens.” And then more carefully, gently, he said, “You're gonna be okay, Gerard.” And Party flinched, not having heard that name aloud in years.

“Are you sure?” Grease-ball asked, sounding incredulous.

“Yeah. You have Brian and Frankie and Ray and everyone who’s gonna help you, I swear.” They both looked close to tears.

“Hey, you too,” Party said finally, directing his attention to white-hair. White-hair looked up. “Paramour wasn't forever. Mikey’s okay. The tour will end. Everything will work out. But it's not the end of the road there. I'm the next step, and I can’t tell you how to deal with all of this shit, but eventually you’ll end up here, where I am.”

“Okay,” white-hair said, taking everything surprisingly calmly. “I just have one question.” Party tilted his head up and raised his brows. “Why do you flinch at my name?”

“That name isn't safe anymore, and I haven't used it since I dyed my hair.”

“Okay, I suppose I'll figure that one out eventually. Last question.” Party nodded slightly. “What about-” he cut himself off, his head snapping up. “Frankie?”

“What?” Party turned faster this time, considering they’d all holstered their guns when they started talking. A small smile tugged at his face at Ghoul’s arrival. Even through all the shit that he had been through, brought back to him by his new friends, Ghoul was still here with him.

He watched as Ghoul flinched violently at the mention of his forgotten name, turning to its source. “Ger- uh, what?” Both white-hair and grease-ball looked completely entranced, but especially white-hair. Party remembered that time. He remembered treating his best friend horribly, refusing to let him touch him or even speak to him. He remembered wondering if he would ever fix things with the other man.

White-hair reached a tentative hand out, clearly afraid to do anything.

“It’s okay,” Party reassured him. “Look.” He took an arm and wrapped it around Ghoul, pulling him into his side. “It's okay.”

“Can I?” White-hair asked softly, raising a shaking hand again. Ghoul nodded, and white-hair reached out and touched him gently, but like he never would again. Grease-ball watched, awestruck.

Party remembered that time, too. Well, sort of. He remembered the frustration that came with only having the confidence to kiss his friend while drunk and onstage, and the severe pining and tension that came with it. Once grease-ball sobered up he'd have a world of fun before having to deal with paramour.

Party could be sensible, like he was then, because he had to. But he was still himself, and a little bit of a show-off.

“You two wanna see somethin’?” He asked, relaxing and tensing at the same time. They both nodded, curious. He took Ghoul’s hand behind his back and squeezed, saying, “This is where you’ll be eventually.” With that he spun around and grabbed Ghoul by the hair, kissing him hard. He knew without looking that the two had their jaws on the floor, even white-hair, who had already experienced what he was feeling right then, but not anytime recently and thought he never would again. They finally pulled apart, and Party said, dramatic as always, “You’ll get here. You just have to keep running.” And it was like as soon as he said those words the dream was over, except it wasn't a dream because anything can happen in the desert.

He turned to Ghoul and immediately asked, “Did that really happen?”

“What,” Ghoul asked in his typical teasing manner. “You kissing the hell out of me or two more of you showing up and then disappearing?” Party just laughed and kissed him a moment more. Once they had caught their breath, he turned to Ghoul, smiling. Below a whisper, as quietly as he could, he said, “We got through all that, Frankie. We’re still here.” He felt Ghoul squeeze him tighter at the soft mention of his real name.

“I know, Gee. And we’re not going anywhere.” Party smiled back at him as they walked back to the trans-am hand in hand, ignoring the usual paranoia for a few moments. “Now let's go save the world.” So they drove back together, happy at least for a while and ready to face Jet and Kobra and whatever the desert decided to throw at them next. All they needed to keep them going was the memory of the peace they had before, that they would have again so long as they were together.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still alive and writing guys! I've been through a lot but I'm back and comments and kudos are still appreciated. Love you! xx


End file.
